A Friend Your Own Age
by MadHare0512
Summary: Once practice was over and Miss Jenn had gone home, he was a bundle of nerves. Waves of panic crashed over his head and he couldn't explain why. No, wait. Yes, he could. (HSMTMTS)


Friends Your Age

By: AndiKaneUnderwood

**I had major Carlos feels while watching episode 3 and I kind of ship Ricky and Carlos, so this was the result...**

**Yeah. Hope you like it!**

**AU: None**

Carlos may have been happy and upbeat while they ran through Status Quo and a few more scenes of the play, but once practice was over and Miss Jenn had gone home, he was a bundle of nerves. Waves of panic crashed over his head and he couldn't explain why.

No, wait. Yes, he could. Mr. Mazzara was a part of the reason he didn't have any friends. Just because he was Captain of the Color Gaurd didn't mean he was friends with anyone on the team. They all hated him for reasons Carlos was sure had to do with his competitive edge, his demand for perfection, and his no-nonsense policies. Point being, Carlos didn't have friends.

And with Mr. Mazzara leading a one-man army against any kind of Art Club or extracurricular, it ensured that kids hated Carlos's passion for music, musicals, and all things theater. Carlos had never let this stop him, he was meant for bigger things than this small town. He was happy to be here, the place they'd shot the biggest movie of his childhood, but he didn't want to stay and be only known as "The Gay Theater Kid".

Anyway, kids hated Carlos. Carlos had been bullied for years. He'd been living in this town his whole life, he'd grown up with these kids. The ones who didn't bully him also did nothing to stop the bullies. Thankfully most of the bullies had graduated and left with the seniors last year. A new start as a Sophomore could be just what he needed. He'd hoped so anyway.

Until Mr. Mazzara had opened his mouth.

His mother had never taught him her first language, but he'd picked some of it up. The words she spat at his father weren't half as strong as the ones she would've thrown at the Robotics teacher if she'd heard him talk to her baby boy like that. Carlos later wanted to use some of those words himself, but he was better than that, so he held his tongue.

He was in the auditorium putting some things away when the urge hit him. So, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and set up the stereo system he was letting Miss Jenn borrow from him. He didn't quite care what played, just so long as he could dance to it. He danced and danced until he was exhausted, then kept dancing. His back was to the audience seats, so he didn't see anyone coming in, nor did he hear the door. His dance was never slow when he was keyed up, all he could hear above the sound of his pulse beating in his ears was the bass drums pounding out a steady beat. Carlos continued to dance until his feet burned and his breath was coming in gasps.

He felt much like Troy might have when he was dancing in the third movie to "Scream", but it was worth it in the end. The pounding in his head lessened and his heartache was drowned out by the physical pain for the time being, so mission accomplished.

He startled when a voice spoke up hesitantly behind him. "You dance wonderfully."

He whipped around to find Ricky Bowen staring at him from the floor. Carlos glanced at the door, wondering if it was too late to run. He didn't have a reason to be afraid of Ricky, but that didn't mean his brain wouldn't be. See, with the whole "bullying the theater kids" kick most of the older kids seemed to be on Carlos had been a victim to many punches, kicks, and other kinds of physical violence. He was a big boy, he could handle it, but that didn't stop his brain. It had been beaten into him long ago that older kids, jock especially, where to be feared.

Carlos pulled himself from those kinds of thought. Ricky wouldn't hurt him. "_I think,"_ he thought to himself.

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, still breathing heavily. "My dance teachers had the worst time training me."

"Training?" Ricky asked as Carlos pulled his phone from the stereo system and put it in his bag, grabbing the roll of paper towels located behind the piano to clean the sweat from his face.

"I was classically trained in any dance my mother could think of. Ballet, tap, samba, salsa, ballroom, jazz, hip-hop, among others." Carlos explained, tossing the used paper towels in the garbage. "I was just cleaning up."

There was a pause. "Want some help?"

Carlos thought about it, then nodded. "Sure."

Between the pair, they got the practice room cleaned up and put into order for the next practice quickly. In that time, Ricky had shared that he'd been practicing more and he appreciated all the help Carlos could give him.

"It's no problem, Ricky. I was born to dance, but what good is that if I can't help others too?" Carlos smiled brightly, grabbing his backpack and shifting through the contents to ensure he had all his homework and books.

"You know, if you're free next Tuesday, I could use some help with the choreography for _What I've Been Looking For,_" Rick asked hesitantly, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

Carlos laughed, "Sure. I'll meet you after Color Guard?"

Ricky nodded, "See you tomorrow."

Carlos watched him leave with his skateboard, wondering how much time it would take to ensure Ricky knew all the steps. He practiced a lot, and it was clear he was dedicated, so it probably wouldn't take long. Perhaps in the process, Carlos could make a new friend.

_HSMTMTS~HSMTMTS~HSMTMTS_

When Ricky didn't show up to their scheduled meeting, Carlos was surprised. Why he couldn't figure out. People rarely wanted to be seen with him, so he was used to being stood up, or having people show up to beat him up.

Then again, he had gotten his hopes up. He'd rewatched High School Musical for the millionth time to refresh his memory about the choreography. This, of course, was only an excuse, Carlos had the choreography memorized around the time he was 6. He'd just wanted to watch it again.

_(And on that note, where had he gotten the idea that Troy would be on time for the audition? Troy had been late to the audition _and _the callback. What _was _he thinking?)_

Carlos stayed there a good hour after the time they were supposed to meet, doing his homework while he waited. He looked up every so often when someone would walk past the doors. Those coming from detention, or from after-school work in classes they were behind in. His phone also pinged every once in a while, but when he checked it was Instagram, Twitter, or Tumblr. Nothing from Ricky.

Finally, when his homework was done and two hours had gone by, Carlos sighed. He closed the book he'd been reading, stood and grabbed his jacket and bag. It was then that he heard a sniffle and turned. The prop-closet had been closed since their last rehearsal, what was it doing open?

Slowly, Carlos set down his things and approached the closet. He gently pushed the door open and it hit a foot. The owner of said foot looked up from where his head was buried in his knees. "Carlos?" Ricky croaked.

"Ricky," Carlos breathed. "Is this where you've been this whole time? We were supposed to meet hours ago."

"I'm sorry. I lost track of time." Rick replied, eyes red and cheeks tearstreaked.

Carlos sighed again and stepped into the closet, sitting cross-legged in the smallish space next to the distraught Junior. "It's okay. We can always reschedule."

It went quiet. Carlos wasn't quite sure how to comfort Ricky. His mother hadn't been a hands-on kind of person and his father had been in and out of his life for a long time. Ricky sniffled and Carlos decided to just say something and hope for the best.

"So, I was watching HSM again last night and, uh, I realized something in the time I watched the movie. Troy Bolton was very late to the audition _and_ the callback. So... I'm sorry for calling you out like that." Carlos could already tell this was going badly.

He was contemplating leaving, then Ricky chuckled. "Thanks, Carlos. Um, I'm sorry I missed our meeting. I've been dealing with some stuff."

"I told you, Ricky, we'll just reschedule. It's okay." Carlos reassured him, hesitantly patting Ricky's shoulder. "And, um," he paused, "You don't have to tell me anything, but if you ever want to talk to someone, I'm here."

Ricky sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Thanks, Carlos. You're a good friend."

Carlos felt his heart lift. He had a friend_._ Not a teacher he felt close enough to call 'friend'. An actual _friend._

Carlos sat with Ricky for a long time. They sat in comfortable silence, Carlos not speaking or waiting for Ricky to speak. They simply sat there until they were ready to leave.

Eventually, Ricky sighed and stood, opening the door and stepping out before offering a hand to help Carlos up. As he got to his feet, Carlos thought about every time a bully had lured him to a secluded area, then beat him up. It still showed how scared he was every time he watched an older boy when one would make a sudden movement and in how he'd threatened to get the librarian and the police involved when Ricky had only wanted to show Carlos that he'd been practicing his dancing.

Ricky rubbed the tear tracks from his face and sighed. "I'm going to Big Red's, but I can give you a ride? We can talk about rescheduling?"

Carlos smiled and nodded, "Sure."

So, Ricky gave Carlos a ride home, and they still didn't talk about what was upsetting Ricky, but that was okay. Ricky didn't have to tell him, but Carlos would be there with an open ear if Ricky ever did what want to talk about it.

Carlos was honestly just happy to finally have a friend.


End file.
